“Hush, little baby,” I sing to Penny, stroking her hair.

She’s keeping me calm. Keeping me together. She’s always done that for me, even if she doesn’t know it. Every time I’ve felt agony, she’s come in and made things better for me. She’s my glue. Without her, I would have never been able to keep the tiny piece of myself I have left. It would have been crushed and destroyed, along with every piece Marcus took.

“She’s a good baby.”

I lift my head to see Ford standing at the door. “He speaks,” I mutter.

He crosses his arms, God, he looks like our father. So much.

“I’m not social.”

“No? I didn’t guess.”

I kiss Penny and watch her little eyes flutter closed. I tuck her in, and then turn and walk over to Ford. He studies me. “I didn’t know about you.”

This shocks me. He doesn’t seem like the deep and meaningful type. He certainly doesn’t seem like the type who wants to talk. I’m not about to lose the chance, but I don’t want to scare him off either. He is my brother, after all; it’s time I got to know him.

“I don’t even think Pierre knew about me, Ford,” I say, stepping past him.

“How could he not?”

I walk into the kitchen, and swing a door open. “Do you truly believe it’s not possible to know about a child? I can tell you it is. Marcus doesn’t know about Penny.”

I turn and he’s studying me. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why doesn’t he know?”

“Do you think he deserves to know?” I ask, popping a grape into my mouth.

“I don’t know him.”

“He married me as a business contract. He used me.”

Ford flinches. “I didn’t know much about it.”

“No,” I mutter. “Most don’t. But let me put it this way: I adored him. I loved him and he crushed me. I don’t think he deserves the love of my little girl.”

“Is that for you, or her?”

I turn, glaring at him. “It’s for both of us.”

“How did you feel when you found out your mom kept you from our dad?”

I close my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. He’s right, I know he is, but my heart won’t let me feel sorry for Marcus. It won’t let me believe telling him about Penny is the right thing to do.

“She’s all I have,” I whisper.

“Yeah, I know.”

I open my eyes, and by the time I do, Ford is gone. I guess that’s all he has to say. Sighing, I put another grape in my mouth and walk out onto the patio. I sit down, putting my head in my hands. I’m like that for a long while, until the flashing of car headlights pulls me out of it. I lift my head and freeze.

I know that car.

I skitter back in my chair, turning and running inside. “Ford!” I scream.

Ford is there in a second, wearing only a pair of sweatpants. He’s sweating, as if he’s been working out. “What?”

“Marcus,” I gasp. “He’s here.”

Ford’s eyes grow hard.

“You might not agree that my daughter deserves to know, but right now, right here, I’m not ready. Please. He can’t know.”

“I’ll get rid of him.”

He turns and storms down the stairs. I quickly check on Penny, my heart pounding. If she wakes up . . . if he hears her . . . no. I can’t think like that. She’s sleeping soundly, so I can only pray she’ll remain that way. I press myself to the wall, edging down until I can hear their conversation.

“She doesn’t want you here. Leave.”

“Let me in, Ford.”

He knows Ford’s name?

“Don’t make me throw you out, Tandem. I said get lost, so get lost.”

“No.”

“I’m not messin’ around. That girl doesn’t need you here. She doesn’t want you here.”

“She’s my fuckin’ wife,” Marcus hisses and I flinch. “She doesn’t get a choice.”

Jesus.

“She might be your wife, but she doesn’t belong to you. Givin’ you five seconds, then I’m swingin’,” Ford warns.

“I’ll make it easy for you.”

Then I hear a loud crack, oomph, and then the shattering of glass. I charge out of my hiding place to see Marcus and Ford rolling across the living room floor. There’s glass all over the place and fists are flying. Marcus has the upper hand; he’s on top of Ford, driving his fist into his mouth over and over again.

“Stop it!” I scream, running towards them.

They don’t listen. They keep rolling, and punching, and grunting. I leap over a fallen chair and land directly on a piece of shattered glass. It slices through my foot and I go down with a scream. I reach down, wailing in agony, and cup my foot, my hand quickly filling with blood. This is enough to stop the both of them.

“Fuck,” Marcus mutters, shoving Ford back and standing, striding towards me.

He looks terrifying. He’s drunk; I’ve seen him this way enough to know it. His shirt is opened, his tie gone. His hair is disheveled and he’s got blood running from his lip. He looks dangerous.

“Don’t,” I warn when he goes to kneel.

“You’re cut.”

“Don’t you touch me,” I spit. “Don’t you dare.”

“Stop it, Katia. You’re hurt.”